Carnage of Being Ripped Into

Devastation brings us together, although preventing pain is nonexistent and out of the question

They don't want to get to know me 

They want to hang on to the idea of a person they never knew 

I'm dying for family to call and their support

Maybe I'm totally invisible. A thing concealed away by the appearance of compassion 

Most will hate the person that I am and despise the person that I want to be

I see my family as my cousins, my aunts and uncles, and grandparents 

Being a part of a subsection with my mom and brother, I'm a reflection of my family 

It is useless to say my actions are my own 

Everything I do is dependent on them 

Who I love 

My words 

My successes 

And my failures 

All seen by those in my culture as the collective actions of my family, not of myself 

When my family finds out who I am, I will have never existed 

My failures talked about in secret 

“She was married to a woman and is divorced.” 

“We don't speak to her.” 

“She hates her stepmother, so she moved halfway across the world.” 

“I don't want her at my funeral.” 

And maybe that's what I want 

To be free from the collective box of my culture 

To pretend it doesn't exist

To pretend my family doesn't exist… 

Found family could be my saviour only if I accomplish the search 

If I fail in my endeavour, then to be alone forever

The family members who stand with me are the ones who are my real family 

Is what I say to disregard the truth that I do want my family to have acceptance

I am bi

Evident from my love for all people 

And my disdain for division 

I am non-binary 

Like my grandma who called herself Jean with her short hair

To say that I look like her is the compliment of the century 

I have depression 

Masked by my perceived shyness and my determined determinism

And PTSD

Like a soldier returning from war, expect

I fought my own nightmarish night 

Do I want to be an individual married to loneliness or live entrenched in my search for love within my culture?